


what happens in sedona...

by largoindminor



Series: wincest love week 2015 [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, undercover couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6023413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/largoindminor/pseuds/largoindminor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sam and dean go undercover at a couples retreat</p>
            </blockquote>





	what happens in sedona...

**Author's Note:**

> wincest love week day 6

Sometimes Sam has to pause, take a minute out of his day, and wonder, _how is this my life?_ Ok, more than sometimes. Often. On occasions like this, though, that thought is just not sufficient. Not that there are occasions _like this_ of course. No, this is entirely new.

It started with a phone call from Donna about a possible case at a couples retreat out West. Reports of lights flickering, windows frosting over even in the summer heat, furniture moving on its own. All in the same room, 887, same time of night, by four different couples, the last of whom were lucky to escape with their lives when some unknown force almost tossed them out the window. Donna knows the owners a little, spent some time there with her ex when she was still clinging to their failing marriage, and they had reached out to her for advice when local law enforcement came up empty.

That’s how “Agents” Tyler and Perry, undercover as Mr. and Mr. Sam and Dean Johnson, ended up checked into the Sedona Soul Retreat. That’s what landed Sam in his current predicament, sitting crisscross apple sauce with Dean’s head nestled in his lap while an aging hippie explains to them and the other couples in the room, about the art of _intimate massage._

“The _scalp_ is an e _rog_ enous _zone,_ ” the women says as she walks around the room, examining the couples and offering assistance when she deems necessary. “ _No,_ Samuel, _like this._ ” she says, grabbing Sam’s fingers and positioning them on Dean’s head, spread out and slightly bent as though he were about to play a piano, “good, now, gentle clockwise motions, yes. Very good.”

Blessedly she moved on and Sam goes back to _not_ massaging his brother’s scalp and desperately trying to will away the erection that keeps trying to make itself known just below where his brother’s head rests, fearful that if Dean noticed something so inappropriate he’d punch him silly, or worse, leave Sam and never look back. Dean, for all his complaints and jokes about the place when the arrived, is stunningly silent throughout the entire thing, eyes firmly closed with tension evident between his brows.

~

Three days in and there isn’t a lot to go by. They’ve gotten to know all the staff and no one seems to be giving off any creepy supernatural vibes. The infamous room they’re staying in has been quiet, nothing at all out of the ordinary happening day or night as far as they can tell.

“Why do you think the, whatever it is, happened with those other couples and not us?” Dean asks over breakfast.

Sam’s not sure what to say. He thinks maybe because they’re _not_ a couple. Or because they’re not both sleeping in the bed (all of the other couples had been in bed when it happened). Instead he shrugs, “No idea.”

Dean sighs, annoyed, and walks over to Sam. “Sam. Really? Come one you’ve cracked cases based on a two inch smudge of paint or the smell of lilacs, you mean to tell me you have _no idea_ why what we’re doing isn’t working?”

Sam just looks at him in stunned silence, so Dean continues.

“Right. No suspicion that maybe it’s because those other couples were, I don’t know, _couples?_ That they were sleeping together, hell, maybe even having sex, when it happened? You’re giant nerd brain hasn’t been able to come up with any of those reasons or a million others? Come on, Sam, get your head in the game here!”

He’s yelling by the time he finishes talk and Sam flinches a little.

“Uh, shit. Sorry,” Dean sits down across form him at the table. “Sorry, man I didn’t. I shouldn’t’ve yelled.” He runs a hand back through his hair and looks at Sam with soft eyes, “Just trying to figure this out.”

Sam smiles at him, looks down at his hands and answers, “S'ok. I. You’re right. I was already thinking all those things. I just. Didn’t want to say them.”

“Well why they hell not Sam, I mean unless you-” Dean stops short.

“Unless what?”

“Nothing. It's… nothing.”

~

There’s a group dinner that night, well, dinner-class combined. This time it’s the art of sensual eating or something like that, and the couples are all expected to _feed_ each other. _Great._

The spread is impressive, raw oysters, fingerling potatoes, herb scented olive oil and warm crusty bread to sop it up with, an array of exotic fruits, chocolate and whipped cream to dip them in. And of course, lots of champagne to wash it all down. It’s awkward to have Dean’s clumsy fingers shove the food into his mouth, but man, it’s all so delicious.

“Oyster me, Sammy,” Dean says for the third or fourth time, and Sam does, tips the shell into Dean’s mouth and watches with rapt attention the bob of his throat as he swallows it down. There’s a dribble of nectar down the corner of Dean’s mouth and Sam reaches out to brush it away with his thumb without thinking.

“Uh, sorry.”

“S'ok, Sam,” Dean’s voice is thick from the alcohol, an easy smile spreads over his face as he leans in close and adds, “sweetheart.” Surely for the benefit of the other’s at the table, they’re playing a part, after all.

The oysters and bread are cleared away and Dean picks up a plump strawberry and slides it through a pile of whipped cream, rubbing the cream over Sam’s top lip playfully before pushing it inside.

“Oops,” Dean says, and before Sam can reach up to wipe it away, Dean leans in again and takes Sam’s top lip between his own, swiping his tongue over the confection. All the other couples have been doing it, and they’re under cover after all, so why does Sam’s heart pound and his breath hitch?

Dean leans back with a shit eating g _otcha_ grin on his face and Sam’s determined to not be one-upped. Sam picks up a toothpick skewered slice of banana and drags it across the top of a bowl of melted chocolate, drips it over Dean’s bottom lip and onto his waiting tongue. Sam’s not sure if this is still for show, or if it’s some incomprehensibly fucked up prank war, or something else entirely, but Sam’s entire body is buzzing with the anticipation of what he’s about to do. He hesitates for a few seconds but Dean makes no move to close his mouth, his eyes firmly aimed at Sam’s own.

Sam dives in, licking into Dean’s mouth to taste the sweet chocolate. It’s a full on kiss at this point, Dean’s tongue pushing back and Sam can’t help the strangled whine that leaves his throat. Sam pulls back, glassy eyed and out of breath, a fine string of spit still connecting their lips for a few seconds. Dean’s eyes are closed and without opening them, he reaches up to run his fingers over his mouth.

“ _That’s_ the spirit!” a woman’s voice yells into a microphone from behind them, clapping both on the back, “see folks, these two caught the spirit, just look at how their gazing into each other’s eyes! Food is a great way to reconnect with your lover!”

Sam’s ears burn hot as she walk away and Dean’s cheeks, already tinged pink from the alcohol, turn a furious red. The dinner’s winding down and Dean stands, suddenly, grabs Sam by the elbow and tugs him up as well, “Let’s go. Now.”

Sam follows mutely behind.

~

Back in the room Dean shuts the door behind them and immediately gets in Sam’s face, crowding him against the wall. “What the fuck, Sam?”

“Me? You- you _started_ it!”

“What? I started it? What are you five? You _kissed_ me!”

“You. I. We were. _Shit._ You- you _licked_ me, how about that?” Sam’s confused and getting mad, actually, too, because even if Dean didn’t start it, he didn’t do anything to stop it, either.

Dean looks like he’s going to say something else, instead he backs off, plops down on the side of the bed and looks up at Sam with misery etched on his face. “You’re right. I- I’m sorry.”

“Dean,” Sam walks toward the bed as well, sits down close beside him so their pressed together shoulder to knee, “I’m not. I’m not sorry you did it, I-” god, here goes, “I liked it. Wanted it.”

“R-really?”

“Dean, I. I think about it sometimes, us, I- since we’ve been here. It’s just-”

Dean cuts him off with a kiss, slams their mouths together with enough force to knock Sam onto his back and Dean crawls right on top of him, cradling Sam’s head between his hands.

“Being here makes it harder to _not_ think about, right?” Dean says to him between kisses, “I- I think about it too Sam, think about you,” _kiss, “_ us,” _kiss,_ “like this.” He tangles one hand in Sam’s hair and pulls gently, leans down to nip at Sam’s neck, “Thought I’d go crazy with it sometimes. Sam. Sammy, you gotta tell me, this ok?”

“Dean, god. Yes. _Yes._ ”

That’s all the encouragement Dean needs to continue, runs his hands down Sam’s body and under his shirt, caresses Sam’s bare skin as they grind against each other on the bed.

“Fuck, Sam, lemme-” Dean reaches between them, paws at Sam though his jeans, grinds the palm of his hand over Sam’s cock, “lemme feel you.” Dean undoes both of their flies, pulls their jeans and shorts down to knee level and lays back over Sam, bare skin against skin.

They don’t get much further than that, Sam reaches a hand between them to join with Dean’s, both of them fucking up into the tight circle of their fingers. It’s messy and sweaty and hurried but it’s shockingly good, Dean comes first, bites down on Sam’s shoulder to stifle his scream and Sam comes immediately after, spurred on by the hot slick feel of his brother’s come and the sharp sting of his brother’s teeth digging into his skin.

~

Not surprisingly, the ghost, as it turns out, that had been haunting room 887, makes itself known not long after. Turns out the spirit belongs to a woman who killed herself after her husband left her, they’d stayed in the room when they visited the retreat themselves, but the counseling didn’t work and her husband left her, devastated, a few days later. The story was a sad one, and Sam feels a pang of pity for her as they burn away her last remaining remnant, a diamond anniversary bracelet that had fallen between the headboard and wall in the room.

~

They check out early the next morning, receiving copious thanks from the owners before they go, and offer for them to stop by whenever they’re in the area again.

The drive home is quiet. Sam feels like maybe they should talk about what happened, figure out this new thing that’s between them and how it will fit into their lives now that the Sedona Soul Retreat is miles behind them. But Dean reaches over, grasps his hand and pulls Sam a little closer to him, looks at him and smiles the same way he always does, and Sam’s heart flips in his chest. He leans in a bit, rests his head on Dean’s shoulder and closes his eyes. Maybe they don’t have to talk about it just yet.


End file.
